Floating Love, Moon Flower
by ravenbynight
Summary: You're a prince and I'm a peasant, but I can't stay away from you. I'll free you from your cage. I swear. No matter what happens. - Piko x Len, YAOI, based on Len x Luka song, "Floating Love, Moon Flower". Rating may change.
1. Prologue

**LEN – zero**

"_I __am __a __caged __bird.__"_

My prison was a peaceful one.

It consisted of silk and lace, of golden banners flapping in the wind, of lords and ladies smiling and bowing as they passed, of soft hands helping me dress of the morning, and of those same soft hand helping me prepare for the long, cold nights. I woke to the smiling face of my butler each morning – a fine young man by the name of Kaito, whose eyes were pools of glittering ocean water and rough blue hair that was never tidy, but never quite messy either – and strode out into a world of finery and luxury.

It was all a farce, though.

I could see the bars, even if Master Luki insisted my suspicions were groundless. I saw them each morning as Kaito relieved me of my night dress, as I turned my head and ran my fingers through my long golden hair; I saw the windows, displaying to me a world of rolling green hills and white houses with roofs of yellow and black and grey and smallfolk squealing and laughing and chatting and converging through tight city streets and a sky so blue it hurt to look at and streaks of white cloud drifting lazily across my mother's small kingdom.

A world I could not touch, nor see clearly due to the black spears of iron that ran down the window's length. They were bars, equally spaced, each as immovable as the next. Five in total.

Five whimsical pieces of metal.

But it wasn't just the iron that bound me.

The King's Guard were not my protectors; they were my jailers. They were all tall and strong men, wrapped in golden cloaks and crimson armour, with the twin roses of my house blooming upon their breasts. Armed with lances as tall as them and swords of silver metal that glimmered like captured moonlight and whips that could tear a man in two, I had no hope of escaping their watchful gaze.

Bars and jailers.

But it didn't end there.

My own body betrayed me.

It was so weak, my body. Small and weak and delicate and soft. My skin was milk white and so easily bruised it wasn't funny; a gentle shove, and gruesome black bruises stained my skin, throbbing and pulsing in time with the beating of my heart. My hair was thick and soft as silk and the colour of molten gold, with streaks of amber and orange and pink and red when the light twisted and bent and split. My eyes were huge and blue and inhumanly bright. And then...the shaking. The periods of darkness, where my mind went blank and I vanished, but my body remained in the world and my limbs flailed uncontrollably and my body jerked and lurched and shuddered.

_Seizures, _Master Luki called them. Caused my some sort of imbalance within my body.

These violent _seizures_ were my chains.

Bars, jailers and chains, and then the Lycila Royal Palace.

My beautiful prison.

* * *

**Hello. This is a new story I want to write. Its yaoi (homosexual love between two men), though, so if you don't like it, you'd best avoid this.**

**Its based on the AWESOME song, "Floating Love, Moon Flower", sung by Kagamine Len and Megurine Luka. Its originally Luka x Len, but this will be PIKO x Len, because I love the pairing...and not enough stuff is written for them! ;_; Piko needs more love! He's a great vocaloid!  
**

**This is a short chapter I wrote about Len's feelings of being trapped and helpless. If I get some good feed back, I'll continue :D  
**

**I apologize for any grammar mistakes.  
**

**- ravenbynight  
**


	2. Len one

**LEN**** – ****one**

"_Do __you __remember __when __we __met?__"_

The leeches were black and fat and seemed to be enjoying my tainted blood very much. Master Luki peered at them from behind his half-circle glasses; his pen crackling against the paper as he wrote, pausing only to pout his lips in concentration, the clogs in his mind clanging almost audibly, or to dip the pen's tip in the ink pot. He was dressed all in grey today; a rather drab robe of wool dyed grey, with his master's chain hanging heavily from his neck.

I, meanwhile, was naked, but the white sheets hide the lower half of my body from Master Luki's scrutinising gaze. Goosebumps rippled across my pale skin; my nipples were hard, much to my embarrassment. The leeches looked very much like ugly burns or stolen shadows, they seemed so black against the white parlour of my flesh.

"M-Master Luki," I mumbled. My voice was tiny. "H-how much longer will they remain...?"

Master Luki's watery blue eyes flickered to my face. "Oh. Have no fear, my prince. I shall remove them shortly."

"A-ah."

Master Luki returned to his staring and pondering.

I sighed and sunk deeper into my pillows. They were stuffed with the finest downy feathers in Lycila, but they felt hard as rocks to me. I hated Master Luki's leeches and at times like this I hated him, too; he was like a stone, hard and grey and unmoveable, no matter my pleas or my protests or my sobs. I felt more than naked around him, even when I was dressed in layers upon layers designed to protect my weak body from the cold. Those icy blue eyes saw straight through me. It was terrifying.

When the door to my chambers opened, Master Luki paid the maids no need. Teto didn't so much as glance as me as she crept inside, but Gumi caught my eye and grinned that brilliant grin of hers, the one that made me smile no matter the circumstances. To her chest she held white sheets folded neatly into a square; but then she stopped and slipped her gloves fingers inside. Wriggling through the fabric, she pulled a section of dark, rough cotton into my view.

My small smile transformed into a grin of pleasure and excitement.

Gumi winked, then Teto tapped her shoulder and she set the sheets down and they scurried away.

_I __love __you, __Gumi!_

"What're you smiling about?" The master asked, with some amusement glinting in his eyes.

I blinked innocently. "Nothing, master."

Time passed more quickly after that and before I knew it, Master Luki was plucking off the leeches with forceful tugs and handfuls of salt, each struggling a moment before releasing my skin with a sad sucking sound. He dabbed lightly at the wounds and dressed them gently in thin bandages and then gathered his things and bowed deeply.

"I shall fetch Kaito, to help you dress," He announced and made for the door, but I stopped him.

"No!" I snapped. My voice was like lightning, the voice of a prince. "Find for me maiden Gumi, or no-one at all."

A crack split Master Luki's expression, a sharp crevice born of shock and confusion. Despite my kingly blood, I scarce raised my already high-pitched voice, but when I wanted to I could sound as commanding and terrible and powerful as my late father, King Al, with a booming voice that erupted in the air like dragonfire. Master Luki stared at me and blinked, then remembered himself and hurried into an awkward bow, accompanied by a curt nod, and then he was gone.

The doors closed with a whisper of sound. In that instant, I was throwing back the sheets and sprinting across the room; the carpets were like velvet and dyed a warm red shade and swallowed up my little feet. Gumi had rested the sheets in a pool of shadows, where even Master Luki's watchful eyes couldn't find them. I peeled away the white exterior and a little laugh of glee burst from my lips when I saw the clothing.

Quickly, I scrambled into them, fumbling with buttons and laces and the roughness of the material, but it was a good roughness that made my heart flutter in my chest and my eyes shine like blue suns. When I was done, I stared down at my front and saw a white cotton shirt tinged yellow, with a long-sleeved button-up jacket of coarse brown wool. The buttons were huge things, round and black, like circles of obsidian. The pants were a little short for my liking, stopping just over half way down my thighs and perhaps a little tight, but I didn't mind at all; they were wool, too, the same colour as the jacket. The sockets were white, the boots made of boiled leather and thick string.

A gentle knock on the door sounded.

"Your Grace?"

"Gumi!" I whispered to myself, trembling with excitement; but I couldn't shout out for her, not if there was someone with her or within ear shot, and there often was. So, I took a deep breath and calmed my racing heart and shaking hands, and spoke in a composed voice: "Enter."

Gumi shuffled inside, her head dipped respectfully, fingers intertwined in her lap. She pushed the door shut without so much as a murmur of sound...and then she whirled and beamed and threw her arms around my neck.

"Ooooh, you look so cute, bambi!" She cooed.

A deep red blush swept across my cheeks. "G-Gumi! Q-quit it!"

"But your cute~"

"G-Gumi!" I squeaked, and she cackled and loosened her grip, so she could grin down at me without removing her arms. It was still an embarrassing position...but this was Gumi, my best friend.

Her hands moved and hair shifted, and suddenly my golden locks were being rearranged into a tight pony-tail. My hair was ridiculously long; it flowed past my shoulders and brushed lightly against my shoulder blades, thick and golden and threaded with white and amber and orange and red. Two thinner strands dangled between and almost over my eyes and the rest framed my face in glittering gold. When it was down, it was difficult to tell me and girls my age – or younger! - apart. I was so dainty and delicate...

"Done!" Gumi proclaimed, after a minute or two of fiddling and muttering. She squeezed my shoulders. "You are_adorable._"

I smiled a tired smile. "I know, Gumi. You've told me several times already. You're like a broken record..."

"Ha-ha. Very funny."

"I thought it was."

"With a sense of humour like that, I fear for the kingdom." Gumi said dramatically. Then she kissed my nose and made me splutter in shock, and she giggled uncontrollably into her hands.

I pried away and hurried past her, towards the fireplace.

It was massive, deep and round and dark as night within, the ash and soot and dense smoke having charred the once glimmering golden metal black. It was framed by two elaborately decorated pillars, of golden dragons with ruby eyes chasing each other down marble stained purple and split with veins of pale pink or watery red; with roses blooming in delicate petals of crafted diamond, glistening with a thousand different hues and dotted with emeralds and rubies and sapphires; and great twin sparrows, perched upon the pillars' heads, with tiny emeralds for eyes and bodies of blazing bronze embezzled with twisting lines of silver.

Silver chains clung to their thin legs.

I took the left one heads between my little palms and twisted it slightly; the head gave way easily and jerked to the right, and then the fireplace shuddered and lurched and slid inward, then swung outwards, and then fell silent. I peered down the secret path created in the deep darkness with a bright smile.

"Don't get lost, okay, bambi?" Gumi appeared behind me and held out a torch; the flames were a soft orange colour and licked hungrily at the air and popped and crackled as the oil burned. I took it gingerly. Fire had never been my friend.

"Thanks, Gumi." I murmured.

Her grass green eyes were soft with compassion as she leaned in and kissed my forehead gently. "I'll do my best to make sure no-one knows you're gone, peasant boy." She placed a heavy brown hat on my head; it was too big, though, and I had to push it up to keep it out of my eyes. "I don't know how long it'll last, though, so hurry up!" Suddenly grinning cheekily, she pushed me towards the secret tunnel and, giggling, I obliged and ran off into the familiar blackness.

* * *

_I couldn't discard my chains._

_But I could pull them taunt and shake and thrash and scream, and at times they loosened just enough for me to slip through, if only for a moment. The world was so enormous and I wanted to see it all, I wanted to be free and fly across oceans and cities like the bronze sparrows in my chambers._

_Did you want to see the world, too?_

* * *

I think I took a wrong turn, because when I emerged from the veil of shadows that decorated the tunnels I didn't recognise _anything._

I wasn't greeted by the familiar sight of Seagull Bay, with its screeching birds and the salty tang of the sea laced with the gut-wrenching stink of rotting fish. There were no boats bobbing in the current, no fishermen sauntering up the docks carrying nets of fish between them, laughing and talking and drinking, no greedy merchants bellowing out prices to a hungry mob of potential customers.

Instead I saw cobbled streets and stone buildings, with black tiled roofs and ravens soaring noiselessly overhead and deep shadows gathering in every corner. The passage came out beneath a house of wood and straw, but it was old and crumbling, all the wood rotting and the straw having long since blown away. I let the torch burning in the tunnel and wandered out into the open; a soft breeze whispered through my hair and tickled my skin, and the loose pebbled crunching and shifted beneath my boots, and in the distance I could hear the clamour of smallfolk going about their daily lives, cursing past wars and troublesome children and laughing over tankards of ale and hauling carts and riding donkey and _living._

More and more, I've found myself wishing I'd been born a peasant, rather then a prince. Peasants had a sort of freedom I would never taste, not even now.

I spun around in a circle, absorbing everything; the squat stone structures, the wide blue sky, the shrieking crows, the drunk man stumbling towards me, the faint scent of the sea and the stronger smell of leaves and trees, of a forest -

_Wait._

I stopped and stared and saw the man. He was truly drunk – I could smell the beer on him, even from this distance. His footsteps were uneven and clumsy and his eyes were glazed over and his long fingers were coated with a layer of mud and grime. There was clumps in his hair as well, and splattered all over his plain wool tunic. Had he fallen over? Sympathy swelled in my chest and I moved to his aid, just as be began to sway dangerously. I caught his arm and steadied him with some difficulty.

"A-are you alright?" I asked. His hair was bright pink and so were his eyes, but they were glassy from drink.

The drunk man dropped his head to stare at me. He was at least three heads taller then I was; I felt like a four year old child at his side, rather then a fourteen year old man. "Eh...ya. Yah, I'm 'nky."

….I think he said he was okay. I think..."O-oh. Good..." I released his arm and started to move away, but his arm whipped out and curled around my waist and trapped me against his broad, dirty chest. I squeaked in shock.

"Ya 'ow, you – _hic –_ _veeery _cute," The drunk man wheezed out. A lopsided grin swept across his face, and his fingers tugged suggestively at my shirt. I couldn't react, I was so stunned; all I could do was stare at his muddy face. "Hehe, I 'aven't seen a baby as 'ute as you in a _loooong _'ime..." I was jolted back into reality when I felt his fingers brush against the flat skin of my stomach. Blushing furiously, I started to struggle, but then his other arm was around me and his grip was like iron, I couldn't break free.

His breath was hot and heavy on my neck.

I shuddered. "N-no, p-please let me go!" Did he think I was a girl? "I'm a boy! A boy!"

He paused and for one beautiful moment I thought he was going to let me go, but then he shrugged and leaned in closer. "That's 'ine." His lips touched my neck, and then his tongue and his teeth, and I whimpered in despair. _He's going to rape me! H-He's going to __**rape **__me! Somebody help, a-anyone! _And yet I couldn't speak. My throat was thick and tight and choked my words. I struggled weakly, but he was so much stronger then me and no-one was around, the place was totally deserted. One large hands moved lower, squeezing the flesh beneath my waist, while the other ventured upwards, dancing across my chest. _I'm going to get raped -_

"Oi! Yuuma, you horse-faced pervert, let him go!"

It all happened so quickly. On second, Yuuma's lips and tongue were on my neck, biting and licking, and then a foot connected with his face and snapped his head back. His grip turned to water and I wrenched away, but in my haste I stumbled over the air and the pebble stone earth surged up to meet me -

Then a strong arm circled my waist, and I was saved.

"Oi!" An angry male voice growled. "Are you crazy, or just stupid? Wandering around in a place like this all alone!"

Trembling, I craned my neck and stared up at my saviour.

Mismatched eyes glared back at me; a pool of ocean water, light dancing in the depths, glowing in flecks of gold and swirling in ringlets of brown, and a fierce emerald, streaked with white and pitted with a single black dot, so so dark, a patch of stolen night sky. His skin was lightly tanned and made his silvery white hair that much paler; thick, short strands hung between his eyes and brushed against his neck and hugged his face. There was no baby fat; all the lines were toned and sharp, not like my round, young face. His frown seemed etched onto his face, like writing engraved in a tomb stone; it was a part of him, and dark and terrifying...but it didn't care me. _His eyes. They're glowing. _I'd never seen such energetic, confident eyes. His gaze was like an arrow, and it pierced straight through me.

I felt a rosy blush rising in my cheeks.

My heart hammered against my rib cage.

_H-huh?_

"Tch." The boy grunted, glaring right into my blue eyes. "Definitely _stupid._"

* * *

**I really like this chapter. It was fun to write.**

**About Len's illness...it will be explained in greater detail later. I actually researched seizure-inducing illnesses for this fic! xD I don't normally do that...  
**

**Thank you so much for the reviews :D**

**- ravenbynight  
**


	3. Piko two

**PIKO – two**

_"Your innocent eyes attracted me..."  
_

Oldtown was a labyrinth of stone.

Everything was crafted of stone – the houses, the street, the wells, the markets. Streets of bleach white cobble stones snaked between squat stone structures, all chipped and grey and cracked with age. Everything was narrow and dark, with deep shadows pooling in every ally and reaching out like phantom snakes. And everything was grey or white or black; black roofs of clay or stone tiles, grey walls splintered with white veins. Oldtown hadn't always been known as Oldtown, but history had claimed the previous title and replaced it with something more befitting of the run-down, grey maze.

Perhaps, many decades ago, Oldtown had been a glorious little place, a proud place for good, honest men to make a living – certainly a haven for stonemason. Not anymore, though. It was a poor area drowned in poverty, a place were children seldom saw three and women walked the street with daggers concealed beneath their skirts and no man could survive the night without a sword at his belt or a strong companion at his side. It was a town of thieves, whores, rapers and killers.

Guess which one I am.

My home was a tiny square block of stone, grey on grey with some twisting cracks. Me, Miki and Granny all slept in the same room, the room where we also ate and talked and roasted chickens over the licking, scarlet flames of a fire...basically, one room house, with this pathetically small add-on where we kept the chamber pots.

I woke in a cocoon of thin woollen blankets and fleas nibbling at my skin and a dark sky tinged with deep purple and streaks of watery gold. I wriggled free of the blankets and moved noiselessly across the room, to where my clothes awaited me, a simple set up boiled leather and black leggings. Miki murmured softly in her sleep, rolled onto her side, her chocolate hair spilling out around her like a river of bronze. I froze, still lacing up my breeches, and held my breath...but Miki's eyes remained closed.

I breathed out a sigh of relief, then ran out into the thin darkness of dawn.

\\\

I found my first target about thirty minutes later.

I got lucky. The guy was dead drunk and swaying dangerously, left and right, then left again. In one hand he loosely clasped a tankard of bear and in a clumsy, slurred voice he was singing "Sweet Moon Maidens" gleefully.

I stood in the shadows with my arms folded over my chest and a silver-bladed dagger dangling between my slender fingers.

_Just a bit closer. Out you come. That's it..._

He lurched to one side and fell against a stone wall and his shadow leapt out to meet me. I smiled a cold, sharp smile, and then I stepped out into the cobbled street and approached the drunk man from behind. He was lost in a hazy world of head aches and blinking lights and didn't notice me until it was too late. My hand lashed out and the butt of my dagger smashed against his neck. He jerked violently, his hands flailing, and the tankard slid from his grip and cracked against the stone floor, while he crumbled like a castle of sand, blood bubbling from the small wound.

I rummaged through his clothing shamelessly, searching for silver or copper, or perhaps even gold if I was extremely lucky, but I doubted such a low-born man as this would have golden dragons buried beneath his spoiled smallclothes. I found seven copper crows and two silver stags, but the dragons evaded me as I had expected. I pocketed the money and left him twitching and bleeding on the street.

Overhead, crows screamed and ravens flew, silent as death.

Later, I encountered another man, only he wasn't drunk and he put up a fight when I slipped on loose pebbles and alerted him to my presence. His fist surged towards my face, but I dropped down and dived forward and drove my elbow into his gut. He doubled over, gagging and spluttering, and I punched him again and again and again, harder and harder and harder, and then I smacked him across the face and he crashed against the ground, motionless. As I searched him, I began to fear all that fighting had been for naught, but then I found his purse, hidden in the stiff, leather folds of his boots, and discovered thirty silvers and three dragons, glinting brightly in the silver-white morning light.

I laughed aloud, my joy was so great. Three dragons! Three _dragons!_ My family would be set for the next five months!

I robbed a few more people – a woman with wiry grey hair and sharp brown eyes; a fat man with three chins and no neck; a young woman who hung out of her door and ran her soft fingers down the length of my arm, a seductive smile on her face, wearing nothing but loose smallclothes; and a little boy who was dumb enough to wander outside so early in the morning. I felt bad about that, because his eyes were so huge and innocent and trusting, so I convinced him to give me one coin out of the ten he clutched between his little fingers, and then I ushered him home.

By this time, the sun was truly up and Oldtown was beginning to wake up. Merchants crowded the town-square and set up the stalls, lined with fruit and vegetables and bread and meat hanging from hooks. A wagon clattered down one of the wider streets; children burst from doors and ran squealing and laughing; and golden rays of light speared through the shadows and beat them into submission, claiming territory and washing my little town in a pale yellow glow.

It wasn't particularly beautiful, especially when compared to the richer parts of Lycila, but the sight made me smile anyway.

\\\

It was about midday when I saw Yuuma.

Yuuma was an old...eh...friend, I suppose. He was three years my senior, but he was the only boy in a family of five sisters and he'd often come seeking my attention, brows furrowed and lips pressed together in a wordless, pleading pout. He was tall for his age of nineteen, with a slender build and a long neck and narrow, watery eyes and a head of messy pink hair. Since his mother's abrupt death, he'd taken to drinking the nights away and often emerged dead drunk, stumbling over nothing and muttering to himself and sobbing into his arms.

Normally, during the blazing midday sun, he looked grander somehow, the light twisting and splitting through his hair and setting it alight with dazzling shades of pink and red and even some maroon where the shadows lingered stubbornly. By midday he'd have cleaned himself up, washed out the chilling stench of ale from his teeth and tidied his clothes and combed his hair till it flowed like silk.

Instead, when I found him in Bealor's Courtyard, he was splattered with mud and painted with grime and feeling up some stupid boy who whimpered and trembled but didn't thrash or scream or fight in an attempt to break from Yuuma's grip.

I stared. What the hell was that idiot doing? Molesting a kid like that! But then, the blonde brat wasn't doing much to try and defend himself. He just stood there and took Yuuma's exploring touches, fingers crawling across his chest and rubbing his at thighs, without so much as a screech of dismay. I curled my lip in disgust and turned to abandon the miserable boy to his fate...but something made me pause and I glanced back over my shoulder.

Yuuma was biting at his neck and the boy was trembling uncontrollably. He made choked, gargling sounds, high with terror, and swatted uselessly at Yuuma's reaching fingers and broad chest.

I groaned.

He was so _pathetic_...I couldn't just leave him there...

I started into the yard at a casual walk, but the boy's whimpers urged my feet to make haste and before I knew it I was running. Angry words erupted from my lips like tongue of fire and Yuuma's glassy eyes flickered to my face, and then my foot was in his and the momentum sent him crashing against the pavement. The blonde boy wrenched free of Yuuma's grip and took just three steps and then he was falling, having tripped over his own toes. Cursing, I lashed out and caught him around the waist, before the idiot could split his skull on the hard stones.

"Oi!" I snarled. "Are you crazy or just stupid? Wandering around in a place like this all alone!"

His eyes rose to meet mine, and my breath caught in my throat.

His eyes were larger then they had a right to be, and glowed with a silvery blue light of their own; sapphires that went on and on forever, split and layered with darker and lighter shades, and even some patches of emerald green and glittering diamonds of gold. His skin was milky white and smooth as silk and his face was round, the face of a child, with full pink lips slightly parted. His hair was spun gold, with streaks of amber and orange and red, all strung back in a tight pony-tail that brushed against his shoulder blades. His waist, I felt, was slender and so...so delicate. I felt like I could shatter him with a gentle shove, or maybe just a harsh word. _He's beautiful. His eyes are so innocent...his body is so delicate...he's beautiful..._

A faint blush coloured his porcelain cheeks.

My heart clenched in my chest – _what? _– and I ground my teeth together in frustration.

"Tch." I grunted. "Definitely _stupid._"

His big blue eyes blinked in confusion, and then he shifted his arms and his fingers brushed against mine. His touch burned my skin like hot embers, but gently, kindly, a queer sort of way that I enjoyed. It was all I could do not to rip my arm away.

"U-um..." His voice was soft and sweet, velvet on the ears. "T-thank you -"

"Shut up," I snapped. I released his waist and he squealed in shock and crumbled against the cobble stones anyway. I stared at him. "Are you seriously _that_clumsy?" He didn't answer. He was cradling his wrist against his chest, tears building in his eyes. They glistened like white crystals. I rolled my mismatched eyes. "Whatever. I'm leaving -"

"W-wait, please!" His fingers latched onto my arm and pulled slightly. I rounded on him, a foul curse on my tongue, but the tears that sparkled in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks made me freeze. His cheeks were still flushed and his frame still shook and fear radiated off him in thick waves. "P-please..." He whimpered wetly. He sniffed. "I-I'm scared. P-please..."

A ball formed in my throat. _Shit. What do I do now? _That face...I couldn't turn him away. The guilt would stay with me for weeks.

I sighed heavily. "Fine. But if you annoy me, I swear, I'll give you back to Yuuma."

Relief swept across his face, glowing like warm sunlight. It appeared he hadn't heard the last part of my threat, empty though it was. "Thank you!" He gushed. He smiled, a warm and soft and sweet smile that made my heart flutter. "Thank you...u-um..."

"Piko." I grumbled.

He giggled lightly. "Thank you, Mister Piko."

I could feel my cheeks getting hot, so I growled and shook his hand off and turned away. "Oi!" I screeched. "Horse-face! Get up!"

I'd hit Yuuma pretty hard and so had the stones, but he was still conscious, if groggily. His glazed eyes rolled crazily in their sockets for a moment to two, before focusing on my annoyed expression.

"Ya...kicked me."

"No shit Sherlock." I snarled. I kicked him lightly in the side and he flinched away. "Get up!"

"I-...in a 'inute..."

"NO. Get up _now_."

"Nah..."

I kicked him again and he coughed out his agony. Moaning, he lifted his arms weakly in surrender, but that only annoyed me more and it must've showed on my face, my expression twisted and the shadows slicing through it like daggers, because Yuuma's face paled to bone-white and he began scrambling for his feet. He struggled upwards, and soon needed my shoulder as support, but eventually I got him up and standing, though he his legs wobbled dangerously and the pain in his head was evident on his face. His brow was crinkled against the pounding between his eyes.

"A-are you...o-okay?" The blonde boy asked in his little, squeaking voice. He was wary, standing a few meters away with his hands held at chest level and his eyes never meeting Yuuma's...but the mere fact he was _concerned_ about Yuuma's state shocked me. Yuuma had been feeling him up, for Father's sake!

Yuuma mumbled something only a fellow idiot could decipher, in a voice slurred and shaky from drink. I rolled my eyes and shoved him off my shoulder, so abruptly he almost stumbled and fell, but, somehow, the fool managed to keep his footing.

I stormed past the boy and towards the narrow, winding streets of Oldtown. Several streets left the square, all as twisted and tight as the next, but the widest was Maiden's Way, and Flea Street the narrowest.

"A-ah, M-Mister Piko, w-wait -" The boy stammered out, following me on hurried feet.

I scoffed. "_Mister? _How old do you think I am? I'm sixteen!" I stopped and whirled and the boy, only a few steps away, squealed and stumbled backwards. I leered down at him. He was so tiny and delicate, like a girl...only worse. "Are you coming or not?"

"C-coming...?"

"To my house, you idiot!" I snapped irritably.

His eyes widened in surprise. "T-to your home?"

"Where else, shorty?" I grumbled. I snatched his wrist and gave it a squeeze, and resisted the urge to grin when his pale blush darkened considerably. "Now, answer my question. You coming or not?"

He glanced at me and opened his mouth, but faltered and looked away; and his rosy blush crept down his neck, a warm red-pink shine, and curled around his ears. The crimson hue contrasted sharply with the white parlour of his chest, peering out over the ruffled rim of his shirt, and the molten gold locks, which only made the blush darker. Lingering tears sparkled like stars in his round blue eyes. _Gods, he's adorable._

"Well?" I prompted, as Yuuma staggered towards us on uneasy feet, one hand on his stomach.

The boy made a strangled squeaking noise, which only served to deepened his blush and make his stare down at his leather boots. He nodded quickly.

The corner of my lips twitched. "What's your name?"

"L-Len," He mumbled.

"Len." I said. I liked the way it tasted on my tongue. "Not bad, shorty."

Len pulled a face. "I'm not _short_," He protested weakly.

I arched an eye brow and Len spluttered. "I-I'm not!"

"Riiiiight..."

"I'm not _short!_"

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**SUPER QUICK UPDATE! XD. DON'T GET USED TO IT! XD  
**

**Not much happened in this chapter, but it was mainly to explain more about where Piko lives and why he's the way he is. **

**ALSO. Recently, I've fallen in love with _A Song of Ice and Fire_ series. I didn't intend to at the start, but I found myself writing "For Father's sake!" in this, so I think I'll use the Seven Faced Gods in this story, just for the fun of it. They are: the Father, Mother, Smith, Warrior, Crone, Maid and Stranger. :D I love them so.  
**

**There may or may not be hints of YuumaxPiko. I'm warming to that pairing x3  
**

**Thanks alot for the reviews :D I'm glad you guys are enjoying this. It's heaps of fun to write!  
**

**I apologize for any spelling/grammar mistakes.  
**

**- ravenbynight  
**


	4. Len three

**LEN – three**

"_Your energetic eyes attracted me..."_

"You're doing it wrong."

"I-I'm sorry..."

Piko sighed heavily. "I know. Doesn't change the fact you're doing it _wrong._"

I hung my head in shame and stared gloomily at the molested potato I held clumsily between my slender fingers. At first, I had thought the task of peeling a potato would be easily done, but I was wrong. It was harder then it seemed. I cut too deeply with the blunt, grey-blade knife, and the trail of blotchy surface was more flesh then skin; the potato was no longer a potato, but a squished cream ball of deep creators circled by twisting ridges. As far as I could tell, the potato was all but ruined.

Piko stood over my shoulder, watching me with his sharp, mismatched eyes, arms crossed over his chest. His silvery hair shimmered whitely in the ghostly light thrown by the blue-flame fire crackling in the small heath, and eerie shadows danced in the corners and swirled across the stone walls and slipped down my shoulders. I glanced at his face and saw the annoyance there, the disappointment, and my throat tightened and I quickly looked away.

I was beyond useless in an environment like this. Give me a troublesome master, and I could soothe his worries with a few whispered comforts and a cup of steaming tea. Give me representatives from across the wolf's sea, and I could have them swearing their allegiance to the royal crown by supper time. Give me a potato, however, and put a peeler in my hand, and I brutalised the potato beyond salvation. Give me clothes to wash, and I made them dirtier then originally. Honestly, I was surprised Piko hadn't lost his temper all together and driven me away. I was nothing more then a bother, and a destructive bother at that.

And yet, he gripped my shoulder and gently told me to try again.

"Look, you were being too rough with it." He explained, not unkindly. It seemed to me that once he was at home, in the presence of those who knew and trusted, he was a much mellower, gentler person. "You need to be gentle, or you'll rip it all up. Here, like this..."

And then his fingers were encasing mine, wriggling between them, in a firm, yet gentle grasp. His chest was suddenly against my back and his breath was hot and slow against my ear and I could feel his heart beat against my shoulder blades, steady and strong and like a drum beat, _ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum_, and his warmth, it seeped into my skin and into my blood and pulsed with the frantic fluttering of my own heart, surging through me, making my insides boil and my blue eyes widen.

I could've sworn I knew how to breath.

"Like this..." He murmured, his voice tickling my neck and shivering down my spine, and, slowly, he guided my fingers and his blunt blade and peeled away what little skin I hadn't utterly destroyed. His lips were moving, his teeth and tongue forming words, but I couldn't hear him at all over the monstrous thundering of my heart and the roaring of my ears. It seemed that all the blood in my body had rushed into my cheeks, for they burned like rubies caught in a golden ray of sunshine. He was so close. _So, so close._ All I had to do was shift around in my seat and our faces would be touching. Our _lips _could be touching, we could be kissing -

_Ahjkshgkhsjkh-  
_

I made a strangled, gargling sound somewhere in my throat and before I knew what I was doing I was up on my feet and running across the room, getting away from Piko and his warmth and those-those _sinful _thoughts. I reached the far stone wall and pressed my hands against it and stood there, trembling from head to toe, and tried to make sense of what just happened.

"L-Len? What the hell?"

Piko's voice was loud and hoarse and understandably startled. I peered over my shoulder and saw he was standing, an expression of bewilderment and annoyance on his stern face. His cheeks were coloured, a faint rosy shade, and the potato had fallen to the floor. Piko still clasped the knife in his left hand.

I opened my mouth to speak, but all I could manage was a little whine. Embarrassment and shame swelled in my chest and I had looked away, I couldn't to meet his eyes any longer. I suddenly wanted the wall to suck me up, that I could disappear into the greyness of the hard stone. Anything other then facing Piko and trying to explain what I just did.

Thankfully, the Father Above was on my side, and Piko's grandmother chose to wander in at that moment, with Miss Miki close on her heels.

Piko's grandmother – Granny, as he called her – was a tiny, sweet woman, with a warm smile and a face riddled with deep wrinkles and head of thick, silvery hair, forever strung back in a tight little bun. Her eyes were smooth as glass and white as milk and by rights she should see nothing but the darkness in which the blind lived, and yet she seemed to miss nothing. That sightless gaze was unnerving; it could pierce right into you, tear away your clothes and peel back your flesh and then there was your soul, naked and unprotected, quivering beneath her terrible gaze.

When Piko first led me to his house, with a drunken, beaten Yuuma stumbling along behind us, I felt as though she was looking straight through me, and yet straight _into_ me at the same time. She and Miss Miki had been departing for the markets, off to spend the few coins they had saved, and when Piko presented the money he'd stolen Miss Miki leapt for joy and Grandmother smiled her soft, weary smile and plucked no more then three silver stags from her nephew's palm. Then she looked at me, huddled in the shadows, tugging nervously at the hem of my shirt, and pulled me apart with her eyes. I stiffened to wood and stared, wide-eyed, for what seemed like an eternity, and then she nodded and returned her attention to Piko, reminding him of the chores that needed doing. He nodded and she as Miss Miki left, but not before Miss Miki pinched my cheek and called me adorable, and slapped Yuuma across the face and declared him a pervert.

"We got meat~" Miss Miki announced in a carrying, song-like voice. Her grin was bright as the sun. Her long, flowing chocolate hair cascaded freely down her back and her equally brown eyes were glowing with joy – and hunger, I suppose, feverish hunger.

"Darlings, come help us with the foods," Grandmother murmured. Her voice was soft, like a hushed whisper. Both Miss Miki and she held bags and bags of food, of vegetables and fruit and a small amount of meat, and there was bundle of fabric wrapped around Miss Miki's left forearm.

Piko's two-toned gaze lingered on my shaking frame for a moment longer, before he turned and answered his grandmother's plea for assistance. He took several bags from her and set them down beside the hard stone stool where we'd been peeling the potatoes. There were two piles of peeled potatoes, though one was noticeably larger and of higher quality then the other.

"Len," he snapped, "go refill the bucket."

"Y-yes," I squeaked. The bucket was a round wooden tub, re-enforced with ringlets of iron, though the metal was beginning to rust along the edges and some water always managed to find a tiny hole to leak through. Piko and I had washed all the potatoes in the water before the peeling process began, so it was murky with grease and grim and other gross things floated atop the surface.

With uncertain hands, I grasped the bucket and heaved it off the floor. My wrist complained sorely of this abuse, but I did my best to ignore it. (When I had fallen earlier, I had cracked my wrist against the old stones and the skin quickly set to bruising and throbbing punishingly. The bruises were dark purple ringed in murky yellow or blotched with black; all hurt awfully. I hadn't told Piko, for fear I'd disappoint him even more.) I stumbled across the room and then outside, where the mid-morning sun blazed bright and yellow in a sky of brilliant blue. In distance, I could see a thick layer of rumbling storm clouds, all dark grey or black, with a few stray streaks of white, but it was too far away to cause me any bother.

I paused for a moment and looked around the street.

It was narrow street, but not the narrowest according to Piko. The ground was all cobblestone with bleach white concrete burning between the slate-grey stones. The houses were all small and stout and squished together, and all were crafted from stone. Hard and grey and cold. Very, very cold. The stones seemed to leech the warmth out of the world and gobbled it up and hid it somewhere too deep and dark for any man to venture. It was an awful place. I couldn't understand why any of them lived here...but then again, they probably weren't given much of a choice. They were all so poor...

The street ended abruptly in a small circle of white cobblestones and a wide well. I would've thought otherwise, but the water here was fairly clean and the well had become one of the few places in Oldtown where crimes were scarce committed. There were some women gathered around the well, about four, chatting amongst themselves, but apart from them I was alone.

I glanced around, left, right, unsure of how to proceed. I stared down at the dirty water and frowned and tried to imagine what Piko would do in this situation.

The answer came quickly enough.

I emptied the murky water out onto the cobble stones. The water spread with quiet whispers and the stones turned black-grey. One of the women looked up and gave me a side-ways glance, but she didn't say anything to me and hastily went back to her gossiping.

I approached the well.

I carefully slid the bucket's handle onto the iron hook that swung and creaked above the black abyss of the well. Then I pulled the rope and carefully eased the bucket down into that dense darkness, until I heard the _plunk _of wood meeting water. I waited a minute or two, letting it all fill up, and then I gave the rope a hard tug.

It didn't move.

I frowned and stared at the rope. It was an old rope, I think, thick and dark brown and crafted from some sort of horse hair. I pulled it again, harder this time, and the hook whined nosily and the bucket splashed quietly, but the rope refused to budge.

My lips began to quiver in dismay. What was I supposed to do now? I couldn't go back to Piko and tell him the rope was stuck, that I couldn't even manage a task as trivial as this without support. Tears welled freely in my eyes. My hands began to shake. _I'm so useless. _I could already see Piko's face swarming before my vision, his eyes dark with anger and his lips twisted in sick, smouldering annoyance. _"You're useless!"_ he would say as his anger finally boiled over, as his patience finally snapped. He would chase me away and I would be left to wander the winding maze that was Oldtown, and I would never see Piko again.

"Stupid, stupid rope," I spat with more venom then I thought I possessed. I tightened my grip on the rope and then wrenched it with all my might, stepping backwards and putting all my weight into the tug, little as I was. The rope grew taunt and tight as metal and quivered between my fingers and my shoulders began to throb and my wrist screamed with pain, but I ignored it all and pulled and pulled and pulled and pulled and pulled -

And then there was a sound like thunder and the rope went loose as water in my hands and I was falling. I cried out in shock and flailed my arms uselessly, and then my back cracked against the stones and all the wind was knocked from my lungs. I lay there for a moment, gasping, pains blazing in my shoulder blades, and then I lifted my hand to examine the rope.

I was still holding onto it.

A part of it, at least.

I stared, and then it all clicked and terror exploded in my stomach. I bolted upright without thinking and pain speared down my spine, but I didn't even feel it because the rest of the rope had vanished into the blackness of the well.

The rope, and Piko's bucket.

I heard a terrible _splash _as the rope slapped into the water, and then some more as Piko's bucket lurched over and crashed almost angrily against the stone wall. The water slushed and churned and sounds boomed off the stone walls, spitting out into the air, and then they died and left me alone to gape, my mouth having dropped open like a draw bridge, and utterly horrified.

I couldn't believe what had just happened.

_The rope broke. I lost Piko's bucket. All I had to do was collect the bloody water, and I couldn't even do that properly. The rope broke. I lost Piko's bucket. I lost Piko's bucket. I lost Piko's bucket..._

"Oh, no," I whimpered and suddenly tears were rolling down my cheeks as the realisation set in, heavy as led, my insides heaving. The tears were fat and fell thickly, carrying the tang of salt over my pink lips. I curled them in disgust and wiped them away with savage force, and with every movement my wrist smarted with pain and my back ached. How could this have happened? Why was I so useless? So, so useless!

"Oh, dear," A woman's voice murmured and I felt a gentle hand grip my shoulder. I looked up and found myself staring into the kind face of an older woman, with long, cherry-pink hair that cascaded over her shoulders in soft, shimmering waves and gentle blue eyes and a motherly smile. "Are you alright, sweetling?"

"I-I'm so sorry," I blurted. "I-I broke the rope."

"It's okay, kid." Another woman called, one with short brown hair and eyes like blood, but her kind words lost there affect when the woman beside her wailed and the other starting to tear out her hair. "This happens all the time."

"Its an old well," The nice lady kneeling beside me explained. "You have to handle it gently."

_Like the potatoes,_ I realised with a jolt. You had to be gentle and Piko told me as much, and yet I continued to be foolish and act thoughtlessly.

I sniffed and wiped at my eyes some more, then scrambled back onto my feet. My cheeks were flushed and my eyes sparkled with tears. "I...I have to get the bucket back. I-It's my friend's. Please..."

The woman stood with me and frowned at my request and told me there was no way, the well was so old and dark and slippery, but I begged and pleaded and even went as far to sob and whimper, and in the end she yielded.

"Alright, alright, just stop crying!" She grumbled, and she lead me to the well and pointed down into the black. "Do you see it?" She asked, and I narrowed my eyes and stared hard, searching despite not knowing what I was supposed to see. And then I saw it; a deep slice in the stone, hollow and drowned in shadows, and then, further down, a mound of stones, the surface rough but rounded, and more hollows and more mounds until they were swallowed by the abyss.

"That's the stairwell." The woman explained wearily. "When the rope breaks and buckets are lost, men once travelled down those stairs to fetch them back up. But they haven't been used in many years, child. They are falling to ruin. Its too dangerous."

"But...but I _have_ to get Piko's bucket back," I insisted. "He saved me from..." I remembered Yuuma and his hands shamelessly exploring my little body and a blush rose in my cheeks. "He saved me," I repeated thickly, "and let me stay in his home, even though I was just a bother and couldn't do anything right. I _have_to get it back."

Even as I spoke those words, I realised they weren't some empty promise made by a crybaby boy. I _would _get Piko's bucket back, no matter the consequences, no matter how dark or dangerous the well-way was. I didn't wait for the woman's reply; I swung my legs over the stone rim and eased myself down, reaching for the hollows and the mounds. I slid my foot inside and grasped the first mound and glanced over my shoulder and into the well. It went down and down and down and down...down down down _down..._

Fear sparked in my chest and then swirled through me like ice-fire and the world tipped and rocked around me, but I swallowed it down and wrenched my gaze away and forced myself to calm down. I clutched the wall and breathed deeply, with my heart a beating ball of terror in my chest

"Move, Len." I hissed. "Move, you sorry excuse for a prince, _move._"

I gripped the mound for dear life, holding so tightly my knuckles shone white as snow, and moved my foot down, into the next hollow, and then the next and the next, and switching from this mound to that mound, steadily progressing down into the darkness. The pink-haired woman watched me with huge, disbelieving eyes, and she shouted something in a voice high with fright, but I couldn't understand her; her voice bounced from stone to stone and whirled past me, down and down and down further still, to be swallowed up by the waters shifting and murmuring below.

So, so easily, I could be swallowed too – not only swallowed but broken, my bones snapped like twigs and my skull crashed in and my sickly life blood tainting the water - but I didn't dare think about that. _I have to do this,_ I told myself, over and over, as I braved the terrifying decent, terror seeping through my veins and gushing into me with each breath. _I have to do this. I have to do this..._

_For Piko._

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**I haven't updated this story in a while. Sorry. I was having trouble writing the chapter, but I'm all done now :D**_  
_

**So, this, eh, arc (can I can it that?) of Len staying with Piko will last for another chapter or so, then he'll head home and new problems will appear. I didn't know what to write for this chapter, but as I sent Len out to get the water this into-the-well idea formed.**

**Thanks so much for all the reviews~! *-*  
**

**I apologize for any spelling/grammar mistakes.  
**

**- ravenbynight  
**


	5. Piko four

**PIKO - four**

_Where is he?_

The thought kept buzzing through my mind, insistent, urgent, despite the logical half of my brain who stated calmly, over and over, that you shouldn't be worried, he's only been gone for a few minutes; the trip from the well to the house wasn't all that long of a journey, but he was such a small boy, stumbling along on slender, milky legs, and he wasn't all that strong, either. He was just struggling back with the bucket held in clumsy white hands, water splashing and dribbling over his little fingers. There's no need to worry. No need at all.

So why was my chest so tight? Why did I keep glancing at the door, half-wishing that Len would stumble in and stutter out some ridiculous apology for taking so long to complete such a simple task, with his round cheeks all flushed rosy red and his eyes huge and blue? Why were my hands shaking? Why couldn't I concentrate on peeling the potato for more then half a second before I was back to staring at the door, waiting?

_Dammit, Len, come back!_

I couldn't sit still. I shifted anxiously, played with my hair, cracked my knuckles, drew circles in the dirt with the point of my shoe. Miki was just rambling on about some handsome boy she'd seen in the square, and she was so loud and so engrossed in her story that she never once noticed the strained look on my face. Granny glanced in my direction once with those pale, milky eyes, but she said nothing, so either she didn't see, or thought I should handle the situation on my own.

Well.

"I'm going out!" I announced abruptly, making Miki squeak in surprise, and I lurched to my feet and started towards the door, but Miki reached out and caught my wrist.

"Hold on a second! You can't just leave!" She screeched in dismay. "We're working right now-"

"You can handle peeling potatoes without me, Miki." I protested, but Miki wasn't buying it.

"You think just because you're a boy you don't have to cook with us?" Miki's expression twisted in rage, shadows splintering across her face, giving her eyes an ominous, smouldering red shade, like dying ambers brought back to life after a fierce gust of wind. She tightened her grip on my wrist, her fingers digging into my flesh, and I could feel annoyance bubbling up in my chest, swelling and contorting. I didn't have _time _for Miki to act like that. I needed to find Len, right now! I couldn't explain my feelings, but I felt like he was in trouble. That he needed someone's help.

He _needed _me.

"Piko-"

"Oh, for the Father's sake, Miki, get lost!" I ripped my hand out of her grip and sprinted out the door and into the street, before Miki could so much as lift a finger in protest. Outside, the mid-morning sun was baking the stones red, washing the world in the transparent heat that rolled off the stones in suffocating waves and burned the soles of your feet to ash. Children were playing near by, three young boys screaming and laughing as they tossed and kicked a small ball back and forth; a woman was nursing her two-year-old daughter, running slender fingers through her thick brown hair as lines of sweat twisted down her cheeks; a drunk man was singing rather badly in a shadowy ally way, wailing up at a brilliant blue sky void of clouds, but in the distance you could see storm clouds rumbling, catch the occasional flare of white light.

It didn't take me long to reach the well. I stopped running and leaned on my knees, gasping for breath, and I could feel rivers of icy cold sweat twisting down my back. The white cobblestones beneath my feet spat out heat. Around me, the small square was virtually empty, except for the curvy, pink-haired woman who I instantly recognised as Megurine Luka, and her buxom friend with a shock of bronze hair, a violent and unpredictable woman named Meiko. Both were crowded around the well, whispering urgently; Luka looked pale and frightened, perhaps a little guilty, while Meiko simply looked concerned, and seemed to be going through a plan of some sort.

The ball of unease groaning my gut clenched.

Len wasn't here.

Neither was the hook or rope that was used to heave up and gently lower buckets into the freezing water below.

"Luka!" I called, as I straightened. I waved and she looked up and blinked in surprise, before waving back uncertainly.

"Piko...What are you doing here?" She asked wearily. I wasn't insulted by her distrust of me. I wasn't actually a trust-worthy person, what with the way I made my money.

"I'm looking for someone. A short boy, with blonde hair and blue eyes." I explained, moving closer, and my heart jolted when Luka's face paled even further. "He was coming to fill up my bucket. His name's Len..."

"Oh, no," Luka whispered, and suddenly there were tears in her eyes and Meiko's hand was on her shoulder, squeezing encouragingly. "I'm so, so sorry, Piko."

"What?" I hissed, my voice thick and low and shaking. "What happened to Len?"

"He's g-gone into the well," Luka stammered out.

And I froze.

For a moment, I couldn't breath. Everything went numb and cold and all I could do was stare at Luka as she turned her back on me and buried her face in Meiko's broad shoulder. Len was in the well – travelled down the ancient stepping stones that no-one used anymore, a journey that had stolen the lives of many full grown men with strong bodies and strong resolves, men who could climb in, force their way through churning, icy currents and then climb back up again with their fingers crusted in ice and their whole body shuddering with the cold. And all the while, they had to avoid the dangerous creatures that lurked down in the darkness, searching desperately for their next meal, always hungry, never satisfied, thirsting for blood.

And Len was down there.

All on his own...

_Len -_

"Piko! Wh-what are you doing?!"

Luka's shocked exclamation jerked me back into reality, and suddenly I realised I was swinging my leg over the side of the well and reaching out for the first stepping stone. On the outside, the well was hot and baking like the rest of Oldtown, but inside the warmth was sucked away and it was all cold, the air chipped with ice, and the stepping stone was slippery with moss and water and grime. I gaped in horror and instinctively wrenched my hand back, but then I thought of Len reaching out for the same hollow in the stone, reaching out with those tiny, dainty fingers, and clinging on despite the terror undoubtedly churning in his stomach.

"Piko!" Luka gasped. "Piko, come away! I made a mistake in letting Len go down there! I was frustrated and annoyed. He was a boy, and yet there he was, crying like a little girl, and I thought if I showed him the stones he'd just go away, but he did the exact opposite! Please, Piko you mustn't go down there!"

"The boy is dead, Piko." Meiko said evenly. "He was so tiny. He couldn't have survived. He'll freeze to death in the water."

I shook my head. Everything they said was reasonable. Chances were Len was lying dead at the bottom of the well, having slipped and fallen during the descent. Too cold to scream, he just fell, silent, terrified, and cracked his skull open against the stone walls or smashed against the icy cold waters at the very bottom. It made sense. And really, I shouldn't have cared at all. I'd only met him this morning. I didn't know him at all – I didn't even know if he had a last name like Luka, or lacked one like Meiko – and there was really no reason for me to care about what happened to him. He was just a stranger...

"Why did he go down there?" I found myself asking.

Luka swallowed. "For your bucket."

I was scaling down the well before Luka could even blink in disbelief. She cried out and reached for me, begging me not to go, but I was already disappearing into the shadows, the freezing breeze whispering across my flesh and chilling my bones; I moved carefully but quickly, cautiously but hastily. The cold nibbled at my fingers and the moss threatened to come apart, but somehow I continued to scale down, down, down, further and further into the inky gloom. The cold only became worse, swirling around me like some transparent blizzard, and there were times when I had to stop and rest and take a deep, shuddering breath, just to calm the rapid thundering of my heart.

Then I reached the bottom, and the shock of cold water against the skin almost knocked the air out of me. I froze against the wall, clinging desperately to the stepping stones, and watched the thick black waters churning, bubbling, like a witch's brew. There was hardly any light down here; just a few weak splinters of sunlight,a watery yellow shade, that bounced harmlessly off the water's surface. My breath streamed out of me in banners of grey mist, and my fingers were pale as snow and ached endlessly.

I peered into the shadowy darkness. The water moved steadily into a net work of tunnels through an arch way coated in a large layer of sickly green moss. Faintly, I could hear sounds, echoing hollowly through the stone tunnels, shivering through the air. Len had to be down there somewhere.

But, in order to get to him, I needed to wade into the water and through the tall arch.

Fear exploded in my chest and made my body stiffen, but I closed my eyes and thought of Len, Len with his sweet little smile and innocent blue eyes sparkling with tears of embarrassment and his pretty cheeks blazing bright red. I could remember the small pressure of his body against mine, the slender slope of his shoulders and his delicate little waist. I remembered how he seemed to be frightened and yet fascinated with everything; every aspect of my peasant life interested him, no matter how useless and insignificant it was.

I took a deep, calming breath, and lowered my body into the water.

It was so cold it hurt, but I forced myself forward. I waded carefully through the moaning black waters, shivering violently, and swam hastily towards the arch way. As I passed beneath it, what little light I had was snuffed out like a dying candle, and I was plunged into darkness. I felt through the water blindly, stumbling over stones and slipping and sliding through the muddy flooring, until I found the stone embankment and heaved myself out of the life-sucking liquid. The effort made my muscles burn and I slumped against the stone, shivering, coughing, water streaming down my cheeks and weaving across my torso, leaving shuddering, wet skin in their wake.

_I can't stay on the ground, _I thought, shaking, and scrambled onto my feet. My whole body ached, but it was nothing I couldn't handle. I shook the water out of my hair and jumped on the spot, punching the air and just flailing my limbs about, trying to get the blood pumping again. My heart thudded and there was a dull throbbing in the back of my skull, but I could feel warmth wriggling back into my flesh from somewhere deep inside, and that was enough to keep me going.

I swung around in a circle, analysing my surroundings. My eyes were growing accustomed to the heavy darkness and, vaguely, I could see that the tunnel continued on and on and on until it descended into blackness. Another tunnel forked off to the left and another to the right, and down all the water flowed at a sluggish pace, murmuring and splashing and popping. I flexed my fingers and felt for the knife I always kept in my back pocket; just holding the sharp iron blade calmed me. I knew that, down one of these tunnels, Len was hiding, searching for the bucket I could have easily replaced, and in every second shadow, other things were hiding, too, creatures with big teeth and eyes like pools of blood and sharp claws and a taste for human flesh.

_Now...which way should I -_

And then I heard Len scream.

It was a shrill sound, high with fear, and it hit me like an arrow, seared through me like fire. I was moving before I realised it, my footsteps cracking loudly against the stonework, splashing through the water, and then I was running down the left tunnel and disappeared into the black._  
_

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**Hello~! :D Short author's notes because I'm in a bit of a hurry. Sorry for the short chapter. This whole In-The-Well arch should end next chapter. **

**Thanks for reading and sorry for any grammar mistakes.  
**

**Sorry I took so long to upload this chapter!  
**

**- ravenbynight  
**


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